


The return of old friends

by alienmagic



Series: Terrible idea [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry John, Angst, Consent Issues, Guilty John, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sherlock feels guilty too, Sherlock´s using again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 06:43:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9372755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienmagic/pseuds/alienmagic
Summary: What happened after the night which can be described only as a Terrible idea and how John got his ghost. And Sherlock his drugs.





	1. John and his ghost

**Author's Note:**

> This fic follows the "Terrible idea". Reading it first is recommend (Terrible idea has only 2.700 words :)  
> It happens during series four.  
> The first two chapters take place after Sherlock visiting Ella but before he found the disc from Mary.  
> The third takes place after Sherlock’s and John’s hug in 221B.

John woke up late. In terrible state. His head was splitting, mouth was full of sand and he would swear his eyes were pasted together with some really strong glue. Or so it seemed.  
With enormous effort he opened one eye.  
Empty bottle laid next to one of his socks, the other one still on his foot. He smelled weak tang of vomit.

The clock showed impossible time of 13:04.  
Shit.  
Too late for work. Fortunately Molly had day off today and Rosie was still taken care of.  
John felt stinging pang of guilt at that thought. He was her father, he was supposed to care about his daughter. And yet.  
No. Stop it.  
John shook his head to cast those thoughts away, but it was a critical mistake. He groaned and hid his face in his hands.

And then he for some reason remembered Sherlock trying to open buttons on his shirt with trembling fingers.  
John scowled and tried to remember if he by some accident met Sherlock yesterday, but he was certain he didn’t.  
The last time Sherlock came to him John made it crystal clear he wasn’t welcomed. He physically threw him out through closed door and was certain Sherlock understood that pretty well. At least he didn’t try to come since.  
Or did he?

John had strange itchy feeling there was something important to remember, but for the love of God wasn’t able to dig it out. Finally he decided to let it go and try to go on with his day.  
He made himself somehow presentable and went to do some shopping before getting Rosie from Molly.

In the shop he lingered around shelves with booze, feeling simultaneously guilty and absolutely tired of it. He felt like plagued with guilt. Everything bad ever happening around him was always his fault. All his life. If he didn’t restore relationship with Sherlock, Mary would be still with him. It was his fault what happened, even if Sherlock being himself was the main reason everything went to hell. Anyway, if John wasn’t so addicted to dangerous people he wouldn’t fall for Mary in the first place. 

John took random bottle and looked at the vignette. The same one he looked at yesterday to avoid looking at Sherlock, but he didn’t know that. 

John took the shopping home and tidied a house a bit. Then he lied down on the sofa, just for a moment before he´d have to go for Rosie. His eyes slid on the blue chair next to the sofa and the itchy feeling was back. What did I do with the chair? Did I threw up at it?  
John got up and examined the chair. It seemed fine. He sniffed it to verify he really didn´t throw up at it and froze. He was able to recognize Sherlock’s smell anywhere. Sometimes it made him a bit paranoid when he randomly met a few people who used the same shampoo or cologne as Sherlock and began to look around if he was being followed.  
He was here. Why?

If John had Sherlock’s abilities he would be able to recognize that Sherlock was in fact bent over the chair facing the sitting cushion. He may be even able to notice traces of salt on the cushion as Sherlock cried almost all the time John fucked him.  
But he didn’t remember any of it and wasn’t able to read it from clues that left, so he resorted to picking up his phone.

16:42  
Sherlock, did you come to my place yesterday?

The answer came much later after John picked up Rosie and bathed her. John was grateful for having to do all that common baby tasks. They helped him not to focus on that itchy void in his head. John strictly forbid himself all theories and resorted to waiting for an answer. 

18:53  
Yes.  
SH

18:55  
Why?

19:13  
I wanted to see how are you doing. You don’t remember?  
SH

19:18  
No. Just had that strange feeling you were there.

19:20  
I was, but you were a bit incapacitated.  
SH

19:22  
Did I throw you out?

19:30  
Yes.  
SH

19:32  
Did I punch you?

19:33  
No.  
SH

19:35  
Should I be sorry for something I’ve done?

19:33  
No. It’s fine.  
SH

John went to bed with strange urge to write Sherlock something more, but he was still so angry with him and didn’t really want to talk to him.  
He was glad he didn’t beat Sherlock without remembering it. But he wasn´t quite certain if it wasn´t mainly because he would very much want to do that consciously.

You want to do it, do you? Came Mary’s voice out of blue when John finally put Rosie to bed.  
John flinched and turned around.  
No. It’s not possible.

It is perfectly possible. Said the voice and suddenly John’s eyes were full of tears.  
You don’t want to let me go. You wanted to have me near you until the end of your life. You decided for me and now you don’t want to let me go. You still wear the ring.

“Mary…” he whispered.

It´s fine, John. Just admit to yourself all that things you really want. Everything´s going to be much easier.

“I want you with me.” Confessed John. “You aren´t really dead, are you?” He added feeling simultaneously hopeful and stupid.

Well I am dead, but I will live in your memories. Such a cliché, isn´t it?

Mary´s voice quiet after that, but when John brushed his teeth, he could swear he saw her in the mirror for a moment. Just casually passing him as she sometimes did when they shared bathroom in the evenings.

That night he didn’t touch any alcohol and went to bed about eleven.  
When the sleep began to pull him to unconscious realm he felt like if Mary was getting into bed with him, but it was more like a memory then real thing. He considered opening his eyes but then thought better of it. 

You really do want to punch him, don´t you?  
John flinched himself back to wakefullnes and there she was, lying on her side of the bed.  
“Mary…” he breathed and slowly raised his hand, but didn´t dare to try and really touch her. He didn´t want her disappear. Then he realized what she was asking and bristled. And deflated.  
“Yes…” he admitted. “I do. If it wasn´t for him we´d lie here for real.”  
But it was my decission to do what I did. Countered Mary quietly.  
“And if he wasn´t behaving like self possesed moron you wouldn´t have to.” Retorted John back more forcefully.  
Yeah. Said Mary surprisingly and John decided just to enjoy her presence without spoiling it with thoughts of Sherlock and consequences of his stupidity.

He fell asleep feeling almost relieved, until the last moment of consciousness looking at Mary lying next to him.

That night he dreamt. But not his usual nightmares. This was different.  
Sherlock stood in his living room, naked but for his boxers, staring at him with huge eyes full of fear. He was lean and beautiful and his skin was full of scars.

John came near him and fisted fingers in his hair, forcing him on his knees. Sherlock obeyed without word, eyes fixated on John. When John pulled out his dick, Sherlock flinched and his eyes widened. John pulled at his hair, but Sherlock silently shook his head no. Without warning John kicked him into abdomen. Sherlock gasped for breath and John shoved his cock into Sherlock’s mouth as deep as possible.  
Sherlock gagged and tried to free himself but John held him in place by his hair, not letting him move his head and suffocating him with his cock. After a while Sherlock relented and let himself be used, tears falling down his cheeks and dropping on the floor.

Suddenly John saw through what he was doing and recoiled so strongly he hit his head on the head board of the bed.  
He breathed like if he run around the city and felt the bile rising in his throat.  
He never ever dreamt of Shelock and sex in the same time.  
What the fuck has happened last night? 

And there it came, images flooding his brain.  
Sherlock looking at him, high and proud. Then gaping and hurt with something John said, but John didn’t have any idea what they were talking about.  
Sherlock standing naked before him, his eyes wide open and frightened.  
And worse. Sherlock under him fighting to get out, tight heat encircling John’s cock. Sounds of Sherlock’s sobs.

Oh God... let it be a dream, please let it be a nightmare..

John sprang from the bed and began to frantically searching the livingroom for any evidence for or against his terrible suspicion.  
It can’t be, there is nothing left, no condom, no empty foil packet. Only the scent on the chair, but he could have been sitting there.

“No…” whispered John. “No, no, no… What have he made me do?”


	2. Sherlock made it worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has references to drug use and rape.

Sherlock was out of his depths. He hanged his arm on the sling around his neck, but didn’t have a clue what to do about his hurting arse.  
The first day he spent lying on the sofa on his belly, trying desperately to delete the encounter with John. Failing miserably again and again.  
He didn´t dare to eat anything for fear of having to go to the toilet.  
He knew he maybe should go see the doctor, but only the thought of the word doctor made him almost spasm with anxiety and pain.

His brain decided to torture him with replaying the evening over and over in impossible detail. It seemed that all that happened was burned in his neurons never to go away. Unless…

He gave up after 27 hours of ordeal. He was almost done sooner by John´s texts.  
In fact he almost had written him the truth, but he felt responsible for what happened and didn´t want to burden John with debatable guilt. After what Sherlock done to his family John was entitled to do what he wanted with him.  
And there was of course the inherent possibility of Mycroft monitoring the communication.  
It was all Sherlock´s fault. If he didn´t come, nothing would have happened. There would still be chance John would come back to his senses and begin speaking with him again. It happened before. But after his reaction at the end of the last night Sherlock was certain. John truly finished with him.

The last drop in giving up was realising John wouldn´t care about drugs anymore. Because John was not caring about Sherlock anymore. And that was unbearable. Suddenly the world turned darker and the distance between Sherlock and everything else lenghtened until he truly was alone on the world.  
Therefore he did the only thing he could think of.  
Texted Billy.

Billy came one hour later with full supply. He didn´t even insisted on staying as always, instead dumped everything in the kitchen, took the money and claimed to go to get some sleep. It was, after all, six in the morning. 

Sherlock didn´t waste any more time. He shot up thoroughly.

When the bell rang sometime in the afternoon, he just didn´t answer the door. But the person downstairs was insistent to get in and rang the bell as if his life depended on it. And that was something Mrs. Hudson never failed to miss.  
She opened. There were sounds of quiet talk and then steps on the stairs.  
Sherlock froze. He knew that gait so good he´d recognized it in his sleep.  
He was torn between excitement that John is coming to him after all, irrational anxiety of what John might do to him and also fear of what would John tell him if he found out Sherlock was high. But that one was quite easy to cover, Sherlock had a lot of experience.

John knocked. It was weird. He hadn´t feel the need to knock before.  
“Come in, John.” Sherlock wanted to sit to his chair, but the tought itself was painful, so he just stood near it.  
John slowly opened and almost tentatively came in. He took in Sherlocks state and predictably got stuck on the shoulder.

“What happened to you?” He asked but there was something wrong.  
Does he know? He can´t know he wouldn´t be asking what happened. Is he testing me somehow? No, he´s not. He doesn´t know. Maybe there´s still a chance.  
“I got hurt.” Answered Sherlock, still not entirely certain John couldn’t remember what happened and not willing to let him know anything more in case he really didn´t.  
“Sherlock.” Squared John his shoulders, looking Sherlock straight into his eyes. “I came to clear something out. I´m still mad at you and I feel that I´ll be for quite some time if not forever.” Then his eyes flicked to the right and he sighed. “Not promising anything.”  
Sherlock didn´t dare to move.  
“But I need to know what happened last night.”  
“You got drunk.” Sherlock resorted to stating the obvious. John apparently remembered very little.  
“Yeah. But what happened when you came. What did we do.”  
“I wrote you what happened. You threw me out.”  
“But… did I touch you?”  
“No.” Lying was so easy. It almost felt real, like if nothing happened. “If you´re afraid, no, you didn´t hurt me.”  
Johns eyes again flicked to the right. “What happened to your shoulder?”  
“Nothing of importance.”  
“May I see?” Asked John and took a step forward. Sherlock flinched away before he could consciously do anything. They both froze.

“What have I done to you?”  
“Nothing. I’ve done this myself.” In your grip, trying to free myself. No don’t even think it he might see something he knows me too well.  
“Sherlock, you came to me last night and now you don’t want me near you. Will you tell me what happened?” said John quietly but made no other attempt at coming closer. Instead he heavily sit into chair which used to be his. “Sherlock I need to know what happened. Please tell me.”  
“There´s nothing to tell.”  
“Don’t stand above me. Can you sit?”  
“No.”  
“Ok. Right.” John obviously made some sort of decision. His eyes hardened and he sat straight.  
Sherlock felt trapped between two evils. He can’t know I’m high. Why not? It doesn’t matter anymore. Or does it? What should I say? Can’t tell anything about That. How do I keep him here until he forgives me once again?  
So he just stood there until John sighed and got up.  
“Sherlock as you noticed yesterday I was drunk. I don´t remember what happened but I’ve had a dream at night and if it really wasn´t just a dream… I mean it had to come from somewhere. What did you make me do?”  
Sherlock´s eyes widened and he blinked few times, but he was unable to do or say anything. He’s angry with me. Still angry. I made it worse.  
The moment stretched until John huffed angrily and moved to the door.  
“Alright Sherlock. If you don’t want to say anything, don’t. It suits me well enough. I’m leaving and I’d be really glad if you stopped those attempts of yours.”  
“What attempts?” Whispered Sherlock, already feeling the black pit opening under his feet.  
“At contacting me. Coming to my place uninvited. I don’t want to see you again.” And with that John was out the door. They shut with ominous finality.

Sherlock stood still and listened to descending steps. When he heard the thump of the front door he fell to his knees on the floor and began to sob uncontrollably.  
There was only one thing left. Morphine.  
Lots of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I´ve found this video where Martin Freeman talks about reasons why John blames Sherlock.   
> I feel it´s perfect after this chapter.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7tThtRtMXk8


	3. Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last part of Terrible Idea.
> 
> It takes places after Sherlock’s and John’s hug in 221B and it’s very short. Just a conversation.

“It is what it is.” Said Sherlock and was absolutely right.

They stood in the middle of the living room for quite some time. John quietly sobbing and Sherlock hurting with him, for him and wracking his brain for anything comforting to say. Coming up with nothing.   
Finally John stopped sobbing and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry Sherlock.”  
“What for?”  
“The beating I gave you in the hospital. And the thing I’d done before. The one I don’t remember.”  
“It’s ok, John.”   
“No it’s not.” John finally raised his head and looked at Sherlock with reddened eyes, cheeks shining and wet with tears. “I never let my anger get better of me. Never. And with you I’ve done it twice in the last few weeks. And you are..” John’s voice quivered but he didn’t avert his eyes. “You are one of the most important people in my life.”  
Sherlock stood wide eyed, still holding John and having no idea what to say. But John continued.  
“What did I do to you, that you flinched away from my touch when I wanted to look at your shoulder?”  
Sherlock only swallowed but didn’t answer.  
“What coud be more terrible that beating? And almost dislocating your shoulder?”  
“John, it’s ok. You had every right…”  
“No I didn’t!” Interrupted John. “That’s the problem right there, I didn’t have any right to hurt you. And I did it all the same. What could I possibly… you moved all right when I came only you walked with… oh my God… and you didn’t want to sit…”  
Sherlock’s breathing got a bit erratic. He shook his head like if saying “No John, don’t go there!” and his lips quivered.

Suddenly it was all clear. John gently lowered Sherlock’s hands still encircling him and stepped back. He took a deep breath.  
“Sherlock. I need you to tell me the truth. Will you?”  
Sherlock obviously went through some internal dilemma but after a while he slowly nodded.  
“Did I fuck you?”  
Sherlock’s breath faltered and his lips twitched. And John suddenly felt heavy weight of truth.  
“I fucked you against your will, didn’t I.” His voice was hollow.  
“I started it.”Said Sherlock.  
“And why did you flinch when I tried to touch you?” Sherlock, I’ve seen enough of rape..” John’s voice broke on the word. “victims I can tell.”  
“I started it”, repeated Sherlock. “It was my fault.”   
“Nonsence. I mean you’re not even gay are you? I always assumed, but what you just said about Irene…”  
“It doesn’t matter what I am John. I thought it could help you. And I got it wrong. I’m sorry.”  
“You are sorry? You are? Sherlock, please, if it’s at all possible, tell me what happened. I need to know.”  
Sherlock drew himself high, reminding skittish horse getting ready to run away.  
“Please Sherlock. I need to clear this. I remember some solitary images and I’ve had really weird dream, but I need to know.”  
“You won´t like it.” Said Sherlock in a resigned voice and John knew he won. But it was a bitter victory.  
“I came to you and you wanted me to leave. You said you finished with me. And I.. I didn’t want you to throw me out again. You also are important to me… John you are my… I… I couldn’t face the possibility I’d never see you again. And when you said fuck you, I offered it. It was more desperate attempt to persuade you to keep me near you then real offer, but you took my word for it and later it was a bit hard to stop.”  
“Did you want me to stop?”  
“Yes.”  
“Did you say it?”  
Sherlock cleared his throat. “Yes.”  
“What did I do, when you told me to stop?”  
“John…”  
“Please tell me. If you can.”  
“You won’t like it, John.”  
“For God’s sake Sherlock, I’m the one who harmed you, stop trying to spare me!” Raised John voice but then thought better of it. “If it’s possible to talk about it I really want you to tell me.”  
“Of course it’s possible, why wouldn’t it be?” Scowled Sherlock but continued. John nevertheless noticed his cheeks turned a bit pink and his voice took that carefully calculated impassive tone.  
“You told me to undress and bend over the chair. I did it. Then you began to stretch me with your fingers. It hurt. I told you to slow down. You didn’t.” Sherlock took deep breath. “After you stretched me you gave me a possibility to go away. I didn’t take it. Then you fucked me. It hurt. I wanted to get away. You didn’t let me…” As Sherlock spoke, his posture slowly changed until his shoulders were slumped and he looked at his feet.

John felt absolutely terrible. He was so sick of himself it wouldn’t be strange if he suddenly threw up. But he needed to know. “When did I hurt your shoulder?”  
Sherlock rapidly blinked few times. “When you stretched me. I wanted to get away but you didn’t let me.”  
“My God…” Whispered John and hid his face in his hands. “I’m a monster…”  
“John…”  
“Was there something else?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I remember holding your hair. Did I… did I make you take me in your mouth?”  
“No. You fucked me until you finished, then told me to get out and left.”

They stood silently for a while.   
Sherlock radiating vibrations of anxiety and watching John wearily.   
John drowning in deep moor of self loathing.

Suddenly John looked at Sherlock and without any warning dropped to his knees.  
Sherlock flinched at unexpected move and tried to catch him, but John wasn’t falling. He was kneeling, back straight and looking at Sherlock with strangely shining eyes.  
“Please Sherlock, if you can, forgive me. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done I can’t find the right words. I completely understand if you’d never want to see me again…”  
“No!” Before he knew it Sherlock found himself on his knees in front of John, clutching his arms. “No, John. I do want you. I.. I mean... I do want to see you again. Of course I forgive you. It is… It´s...”  
“It is what it is.” Finished John for him.  
“And what it is is fine.” Sherlock looked at him as if trying to say something more with his eyes and John felt they just made another huge step somewhere forward.   
Without word and still on their knees they slowly, carefully embraced.

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason I need this to be compatible with series four, so first I didn’t push the happy reunion theme and wrote only first two chapters. It made beautiful entry for Mary and also a reason for Sherlock turning to drugs (at least in my head).  
> It made perfect sense to name the story The return of the old friends, and it also made a little trap of expectation about John and Sherlock. As is a bit of a canon in the series, these traps where I think one thing but then it’s something completely different. So the name of the fic is also my way to pay tribute to the canon.
> 
> But then I got the idea how to make things better between John and Sherlock and I couldn´t resist writing the third chapter. Hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading!  
> If you feel like leaving kudos or comment, I’m most greatful.


End file.
